Chaos Law
by EpicThoth3's
Summary: It started on the first day of middle school, but nobody is quite sure what it is. It might have something to do with that new spooner, or maybe it's about the Bullympics. Follow Phineas, Isabella, Baljeet, and Buford (Ferb too, but he doesn't talk) as they try to figure out what exactly is going on. One thing's for certain, though: whatever's happening in Danville, it's hilarious.
1. In A FanFiction Sort Of Way

**Here I go again, into the world of first person. This time we have what some might call a comedy. I'm just not sure if the prerequisites for that title include a plot. You see, this story will have school, Phinbella, second dimension, PhinOC, time travel, more OCs, and many more clichés which have made FanFiction famous, but it will not have a plot, or at least, not a reasonable one. This story was made purely for comedy purposes, and it is not recommended that you read this during a silent contest. By the way, Brad, I know you're reading this.**

**Why do I even need to say I don't own Phineas and Ferb?**

* * *

**Phineas**

"You know, it seems like school took forever to get here, and boy, am I glad it did."

I was walking with my friends to the brick building one late August morning - the first day of middle school. It had been a great summer, but it had to come to an end at some point.

"You're glad school started?" asked Isabella, incredulous.

Isabella lives right across the street from my place, so she's never been too far from the metaphorical treehouse, and consequently has had a lot of literal fun. She's also one of my best friends, and the only girl among them. Not that that's important or intentional or anything. She's just fun to be around, and a great friend to have.

"No," I replied. "I'm glad that it took forever to get here."

"I could hardly stand the wait!" exclaimed Baljeet, another of my friends, and the nerdiest of them all. "Higher math classes, advanced science courses–"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," interjected my third friend Buford, a French-speaking Dutch bully of Norwegian descent. "The only good thing about school is that there are more nerds to bully, and more bullies to compete with." His eyes suddenly narrowed, fixed on some random location in the distance which seemed to be slightly up and to the left.

"Let the _Bullympics_ begin," he said dramatically.

"The Bullympics?" I asked.

"_Bullympics_," corrected Buford. "It's italicized."

"Whoa!" yelled Isabella. "Fourth wall much?"

"Yes," said Buford. "Yes I do."

"That does not even make any sense!" screamed Baljeet.

"It doesn't have to," replied Buford. "Right, readers?"

"Wait, wait, wait," I said, cutting off the conversation, and jumping back to my question. "What are the _Bullympics_?"

"It's a competition to see which bully can bully the most nerds the best," explained Buford. "I'm the defending champion."

To prove his point, he pulled a golden trophy out of his backpack.

"Do you do this every year?" I asked.

"Yep."

"So that is why I always feel more bullied during the school year," said Baljeet.

"Yeah," continued Buford. "But this year's gonna be super tough. 'Cause we're in middle school now, I gotta deal with a whole different class of bullies - the eighth graders. New school, new level. My trophy's gonna be even harder to retain."

Baljeet sighed, disappointed. This means bigger, better, and stronger bullies for him to fend off.

"Get ready, 'Jeet," said Buford. "'Cause this summer? That was just my preseason warmup."

Finally, my brother Ferb—well, stepbrother, really, but he and I aren't even a step apart—decides to speak up.

"Well, here we are," he says, in his unique British accent. "Danville Public Middle School."

We look up, and see the brick building looming in front of us.

* * *

**Isabella**

I never even made it to math class.

As I was walking by Phineas in the hallway, the officials—however official they really are—decided to make an announcement over the loudspeakers.

"Hey, you two should kiss!"

Um, what? It's a great idea, of course, but I don't need someone who can't see me to suggest it.

"Yeah, you two! You're right next to each other, for Christ's sake! I mean, for the sake of whichever higher life form you believe in, should you be religious."

Gee, thanks. I was about to raise the alarm bells for all that mention of Christianity. In the public schools, no less.

Actually, that's the least important thing I've heard. More pressing is this whole '_You-two-should-kiss_' announcement. A quick look at Phineas confirms he did hear it. He's looking at the loudspeakers all funny, as if he's thinking, _Kiss? What's that?_

He might well be, too. He has yet to show otherwise.

"Oh, come on!" the unidentified voice continues. "You know who you are. Just make your two lips touch. What's so hard about that?"

Finally, it occurs that this guest speaker (alright, this unwelcome speaker) may not be talking to me. Phineas doesn't know what he means to me. At least, not in that sense.

"Don't try pretending that you don't know who you are!" screams the voice. "Your bloody initials are P and I! That should single you out!"

P. For Phineas.

And I. For Isabella.

Maybe it is us.

In fact, it almost certainly is.

Furthermore, it turns out Phineas can spell, because he looks to me with his face all scrunched-up and weird-looking. It's kinda cute. In a FanFiction sort of way.

"Umm... Isabella?" he asks.

I look back at him. "Yeah?" I ask, even though I know what he will say.

Phineas points up at the speaker system. "Are you hearing all that?"

I glance nervously at the loudspeakers. Now there's people chanting over them. Lots of people. "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" they scream. Even surrounding us in the hallway, people have taken up the chant.

"Yeah," I tell Phineas.

"Are they..." he can't finish his sentence. Of course he can't. Unable to control myself, I help him out.

"...talking about us?"

Phineas nods. I don't know what to say. This is all a bit unexpected.

Scratch that. It's a lot unexpected.

But do I let such an opportunity just pass me by? I might kiss Phineas _now_! Isn't that what I've always wanted?

"It's what you've always wanted!" Our favorite unwelcome guest speaker confirms. "To quote [censored because we wouldn't want product placement on FanFiction], just do it!"

"I think they do mean us," I tell Phineas.

"Why?" he asks.

"Kiss now, ask questions later!" the loudspeaker yells.

Phineas is clearly petrified by all this. Honestly, so am I. But he does at least try to lean in a little.

I remind him that we are three steps apart by erasing that distance. Phineas backs off, embarrassed.

"Isabella, you're my best friend," he says. "Why would I want to kiss you?"

"Don't act like you don't want to," the loudspeaker warns. "Lean in!"

Compelled by the demanding voice and attractive triangle, I lean in.

"Both of you," Phineas is reminded.

And so, forced by some guy I don't even know, my lips meet that of Phineas Flynn. The crowd—both the one in the hallway and the one broadcasting over the speaker system—give a collective romantic _aww..._

I will never forget this kiss like I did the last one.

Wait, what?

Regardless of what just fluttered through my mind, life decided to move on. So, like any sensible kid would do, the voice starts singing _that_ song.

_Irving and Priscilla sitting in a tree_

_K-I-S-S-I-N-G_

_First comes love, then comes marriage_

_Then comes the baby in the baby carriage_

Phineas's lips could not have gotten off mine faster.

* * *

**So, um, _Chaos Law_, people! Pretty funny, right? Expect it to continue right through the second chapter. Maybe even the third.**

**This story is dedicated to all those who are perpetually confused. It won't make any more sense than the rest of their lives have.**

**~Review! If you please.**


	2. Whipping Flirts

**Previously on Chaos Law:**

**_There's a freaking LINK up and to the right! Well, it's more right than up, but it's there! Find out for yourself what happened, although I doubt it will clear up much_.**

**Guest reviews! I mean, review!**

**LoveYouEpicThoth: Sorry you lost the silent contest. Would you mind signing this form indicating that I am in no way responsible for your talking and should not be held accountable for any purpose whatsoever, absolving me of any suspicion in similar events, including this one? Also, I'm not sure anything that happens in chapter one can be considered a plot twist. Just unorthodox.**

**Who knew contradictorily was a word?**

**Why do I even need to say I don't own Phineas and Ferb?**

**Are you even answering my persistent queries in real time**

**Will you enjoy the next chapter?**

* * *

**Isabella**

Irving and Priscilla?

How could it be _them_?

Everything the voice said, everything we did, it all pointed to us!

Who's Priscilla?

I look at the other people littering the hallway, and it turns out none of them were watching me and Phineas. Rather, they were all staring at Irving and some other nerd—Priscilla, I suppose—situated a little further down the corridor.

At least no one saw us, then.

I could be proven wrong, though, because Buford is running through the halls toward us.

"See?" he screams. "Do you see what I have to compete with?"

"What?" Phineas asks, confused.

"The announcement!" Buford yells, outraged. "Nothing embarrasses nerds more than public displays of affection! Whoever did that just got some major points in the _Bullympics_, plus some bonus for the song!"

I breathe a sigh of relief. Not proven wrong.

"Wait a minute," Buford adds. "Something's up here."

"The roof?" Phineas offers, cracking a smile. "Or if you don't like it, there's always the sky."

"No, not that," Buford mutters. "It's something else. Something about—"

The truth finally dawns on Buford like a mouse spotting its cheese. Or some other simile.

"Hold on. Did you two—"

He looks back and forth between me and Phineas. Both of us just stand there flustered, neither willing to deny it.

Buford gasps. "You did!"

Phineas desperately tries to formulate a defense. "Well, how were we supposed to know that P and I meant Priscilla and Irving? I didn't even know there was a Priscilla in the _school_! Besides, everything on the announcements coincided with everything happening between us! It was nothing serious! I swear!"

The more Phineas talks, the more Buford smiles. "This is great, this is great..." he keeps muttering. Then he runs off without saying good-bye.

* * *

**Buford**

I don't know what Isabella's complaining about back there. I did say farewell.

Either way, it's like I said: this is great. If I start making that kiss serious, I can get some major points for embarrassing Phineas. Only problem is, I don't know if Dinner Bell qualifies as a nerd. I have to confer with the official _Bullympic_ committee.

The committee meets under extreme secrecy and takes every precaution to keep it that way. They meet in only the least suspicious of locations—the janitor's closet, which is a lot bigger than it looks—and everyone has to use a special knock to gain access.

So I arrive at the fabled closet and slam the door open.

"It's Buford," I say. "I want an audience with the _Bullympic_ committee."

"Thank you for using the secret knock," the chairman says. I know he's the chairman because he looks the most like a chair.

"You may have your audience," the chairman continues. "Whaddaya want?"

"I want to know if Phineas Flynn qualifies as a nerd."

"Do you have his IQ test?"

I pull a piece of paper out of my pocket.

"One eighty-three," I say, showing them the paper.

* * *

**None**

"Wait, wait, wait," Phineas said, interrupting the story. He turned to Buford. "How did you get my IQ test?"

"It's a bully's job to keep up-to-date IQ tests on all of his compatriots and nerds." replied Buford.

"I never even took an IQ test!" Phineas protested.

"Oh, really?" Buford asked mysteriously.

Phineas just sat there, flustered.

"Now, where was I?" Buford said. "Ah, yes..."

* * *

**Buford (Take 2)**

"Do you have his IQ test?"

I pull a piece of paper out of my pocket.

"One eighty-three," I say, handing it to them.

The committee considers this number for a moment. For the first time, I notice how big some of these guys are. They look like they could put the fight in pillow fight.

"Hmm... One eighty-three," the chairman ponders. "Is that above or below the nerd IQ minimum of a hundred and seventy?"

"That's a tough call," one board member says. "I'm not entirely sure myself, but I think it just sneaks in."

"I don't," contradicts another member. "I think it's a bit under."

"Ha!" the first bully says. "That's because you've got maggots for brains!"

"If I'm a maggot, then you're... something that maggots eat!"

"Oh, yeah? Well you're stupid!"

"You're stupid!"

"Nu-uh!"

"Uh-uh!"

"We'll get back to you in a minute," the chairman tells me. Then he, along with the rest of the board, join the fray. I walk out of the closet.

"That went well," I muse. "Usually it only takes them half that time to start a fight."

* * *

**Baljeet**

I was so happy when we finally returned to the joys of school. Happy enough to sing a love song.

_I am a nerd, a nerd back in school_

_With brand new classes, glasses and rules_

_I am a nerd, a nerd in the fall_

_For obvious reasons, best season of all_

I concede that it may not be the traditional love song between a man and his woman, but that does not diminish the boundless love I was experiencing at the time.

_I prefer to take good brains over good looks_

_It is the most important utensil_

_In another year striving for the best grades_

_Finally it is time to return_

Yes, I admit it. I love school. More than I love... not school.

_To the crispy clean pages of the textbooks_

_The feel of a freshly sharpened pencil_

_There should really be more back-to-school parades_

_After all, I am so eager to learn_

I have been working on that song all summer, and finally—finally—I have had a chance to sing it. Oh, this is euphoria!

_The empty lockers, the white blackboards_

_A mind to cram with info_

_Now we are here back in school_

_Is it not cool?_

_Just think of all the things we soon will know_

I did not sing that last verse. It has neither the same rhythm nor the same melody. Yet in an instant, I recognize that it is a fantastical supplement to my first three verses, and would function superbly as the other half of a duet, should this song become one. So I continue.

_We can learn about bonding in chemistry_

_Or perhaps tackle advanced calculus_

_English is the best road to proper grammar_

_Music class is but one easy A_

With the random girl joining my song, I have to invent a new verse. Now, what rhymes with 'calculus'?

_We could learn about modern world hist'ry_

_Make sure fictional facts will never fool us_

_Work in chop class with nails and a hammer_

_And it all is beginning today_

_'Fool us'... _Eh, I've had better. While I sing these verses, my counterpart adds another in her style.

_Another campus, another year_

_The hallways crowded once more_

_Sitting in a new desk_

_Sweet as the rest_

_Knowledge is an endless door_

I conclude the song by repeating the first verse, and the other singer clearly has the same idea, as her voice does the same.

_I am a nerd, a nerd back in school_

_With brand new classes, glasses and rules_

_I am a nerd, a nerd in the fall_

_For obvious reasons, best season of all_

I stop singing now, but my counterpart has one final solo prepared.

_The nine months that await_

_Will surely be the great-_

_-est of my life so far_

_The start of junior high_

_A time none can deny_

_Is meant to raise the bar_

_My only hope is that I can star_

At the end of that stanza, I finally come face to face with the mystery singer.

"My name is Bill Gates," she says, extending a hand.

I hesitate. "But you are a girl," I protest. "In middle school. And Bill Gates is a boy. In adulthood."

"Did I say Bill Gates?" the girl asks, an apologetic tone to her voice. "I am so sorry. I meant to say Gill Bates. You seem I am a spooner, I cannot help it."

"Not the cuddle, I mean," she adds quickly, even though I know what she means. "I mean spooner as in I keep accidentally whipping flirts around. Like I said, I cannot help it."

Gill Bates catches her mistake quickly. "_Flipping words_," she corrects herself. "It is a speech impediment named for—"

"—Spooner," I interrupt. "I know this stuff. Archibald Spooner was a priest who kept mixing up the pronunciations of different words. Now people call his style of mistakes spoonerisms. Spoonerisms are pairs of words whose initial sounds can be switched around to make a different pairs of words. For example—"

"Sighing flosser becomes sighing flosser," Gill Bates finishes, a smile on her face.

"Flying saucer," I politely correct her.

"I meant to say that."

"I know you did."

"So you are who?" Gill Bates asks, and I jump at the horrendously incorrect grammar.

"_Who_ are _you_?" she amends her previous statement, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

"My name is Baljeet," I tell her. "But you can just call me... _Dr. Ninja."_

"Oh, as in Dr. Ninja Baljeet," Gill replies.

"How do you know that?" I ask, flustered. I could have sworn Candace was the only one who ever watched Ferb TV. Then again, I could be wrong. This could be some alternate dimension or something.

"Ferb TV is, mike, lie favorite channel."

"You know, your grammatical mistakes do not make as much sense on paper," I point out.

She sighs. "I know. It does not make them any less existent."

Since the conversation has nowhere to go from here, I explain that I do not want to be late for class.

"But we are in lunch night row," she protests. "Class does not start for another fifteen minutes."

"The early bird gets the worm," I say, a smile on my face as I hop off to English.

"But the second mouse gets the cheese," she replies, watching as I skip merrily down the hall.

I never could shake the feeling that I had just met someone who would be by my side for years to come.

* * *

**So, what do you think of Gill? And for the record, this Spooner guy really did exist. Perhaps his most famous slip-up was when he got an audience with the queen and told her of his 'half-warmed fish' instead of his 'half-formed wish'.**

**~Review! If you please.**


	3. They Call Him Bully

**Welcome back to Chaos Law, where the Law part of the name is null and void.**

**Guest reviews!**

**LoveYouEpicThoth: So, you're into Gilljeet, huh? Just let it happen, then... and don't expect much. Life's easier with low expectations. As for that plot twist, well, the plot was twisted, all right. My debate was over the existence of a plot. But have it your way. Finally, if you'd like to know Spooner, you should have been born a few centuries ago. And in England somewhere.**

* * *

**Phineas**

Luckily, I had no classes with Isabella the for rest of the day. Otherwise I would not have been able to concentrate.

Unluckily, I made a new friend. If you can call him that.

His name is William Eberhart, and he was something of a celebrity around these parts. He has a nickname, too. Not one of those normal ones, either. You know, the Will/Bill/Billiam type? Not those.

Apparently around here he is called Bull. As in Bull E. As in bully. As in similar-to-but-not-quite-Buford. As in— I'm out.

It was when I confronted him that I made the biggest mistake of my life.

"Hiya, shrimp!" he said, noticing me approach him. The kid's cheerful disposition caught me off guard—it was so light for such a tough-looking man.

The voice was also incredibly familiar to me, whitch is strange considering I'd just met him. Ferb, however, had already told me why the sound was so recognizable.

Bull's voice was the same one I heard over the loudspeaker. You know, back when... you know, me and... you know, that other girl... you know, Isabella... you know, kinda accidentally-on-purpose... you know, I think you get the idea.

She's a lot more comfortable talking about it than I am. Frankly, I'm still growing into the idea. Heck, I'm still growing up. I have no idea what to make of all this.

Before this tangent goes on too long, let me get back to the story.

"Hiya, shrimp!" Bull E. said, and his cheerful disposition caught me off guard.

Despite my surprise, I managed to keep my cool. I had a game plan in mind, and I was not going to stray from it. At least, not yet.

"I heard your voice over the loudspeaker today," I said.

The eighth-grader laughed. "I know. Classic, right?"

I shook my head, continuing to attack this kid. My (ill-formed and impulse-based) plan was essentially the same as Buford's mantra: the best offense is a good offense. No way William gets out of this unscathed. Thus, my assault continued:

* * *

**None**

"Thus?!" cries Buford. "Who still says thus?!"

"Apparently, Phineas," Baljeet confirms.

"Him and who else?" Buford argues. "_Shakespeare_?"

Phineas sighs. "On with the story..."

* * *

**Phineas**

My assault continued: "I thought that what you said was very demeaning to some people."

"That's kind of the point," Bull continues. "Nothing's funny unless it's also mean. Besides, the laughs far outweighed the cries there."

"Don't do it again," I warn him.

A look of realization suddenly dawned on his face. "Oh," he said. "So you're one of those sixth graders who still thinks he can stand up to bullies. Well, this ain't Kansas, Dorothy."

"No, it's Illinois," I pointed out.

"See? I was right. Now, I strongly advise you to get out of my way before I pull a spinning backflip triple lutz flaming cyclone sidekick of ultimate doom on you."

I hesitated. That was quite a menacing name for a kick. The whole 'ultimate doom' part had to count for something, right? But then I remembered: was I not the Beak, who saved Danville multiple times in twenty-two minutes? Was I not the man who traveled the world in under forty hours? Was I not the same Phineas who discovered Atlantis? Who built a skyscraper to the moon? Who got shipped off to military school in a dream? Who traveled through space more times than one? Who might have discovered a second dimension had he ever found the time? Who built a roller coaster in a morning? Who spent an entire day watching Space Adventure? Who... _is_ _saying all of this out loud?_!

I did a double take. Sure enough, Bull E. was laughing his everything off, and everyone else within earshot was having equal trouble containing themselves.

"I don't even need to bother embarrassing you," William said between guffaws. "You do enough of that all by your lonesome."

I scrambled to defend myself. "It's true! I really did do all that! Except for the second dimension part. That's still in the works."

"Yeah, right," Eberhart groaned. "And pigs can fly."

"Flying pigs," I mused. "Don't think I've done that yet, actually. Mind if I try it sometime?"

"You know, kid," Bull confessed. "You're really starting to get on my nerves. I think it's time to show you who's really king around here."

"I dare you," I retorted, staring him in the face.

"I'm going to beat you at your own game," Bull E. challenged. "A one-off, next weekend, right here. We'll see who among us can actually build his two cents' worth. If I win, you admit that I am king, and have to obey my every command until you graduate."

"And if I win?" I asked.

"Then maybe I'm not as all-powerful as I claim," Eberhart bargained.

I fought back. "Not enough."

"Okay," said William. "I'll give up what control I have over the school."

I thought about it for a moment. "Am I allowed to work with my team?"

"As am I," Bull affirmed. Surprisingly professional for a bully like him.

However, satisfied with the conditions, I held out my hand. "Deal."

I had no idea that shaking his hand would be the biggest mistake of my life.

* * *

**Ferb**

...

* * *

**None**

"Ferb!" Phineas cries. "It's your turn to tell this part of the story! You can't just go on being silent forever! Not everyone can understand the way I do!"

Ferb blinks. Then nods his head.

* * *

**Ferb**

...

* * *

**None**

"Use your words, Ferb," Isabella eggs the Brit on, trying to get him to tell his part.

"I'd rather not," Ferb replies.

"It is not that hard," Baljeet adds. "Just keep doing that for a long time."

Ferb shakes his head.

More arguing ensues, but Ferb remains adamant in his vow of semi-silence.

Finally, Phineas concedes. "Fine. I'll tell this part."

* * *

**Ferb**

**Well, actually Phineas**

A lot happened on the way to school the next day.

First, Isabella came out of her house. Admittedly not that unusual, but her outfit was.

Immediately after that, Buford came running down the street.

"What are you wearing?!" I cried.

"Pants," answered Buford. "They're all the rage nowadays."

"No, not you," I said, shrugging him aside. "Isabella, that dress..."

"Do you like it?" she asked. "I was kind of bored with the constant white and pink, so I went with white and gold instead."

"How is that dress white _or_ gold?" Baljeet asked, flustered. Yes, he was already there. He always is, waiting eagerly for us at 6:30 am every school morning, an hour before we typically leave. Ferb was also already there, because he's always by my side.

"All I can see is blue and black," Baljeet finished.

Isabella chuckled inwardly, as if Baljeet were playing a bad joke on her. "Yeah," she said sarcastically. "And Pinky only sees gray and gray. Stop kidding yourself, Baljeet."

"No," I protested. "I'm with Baljeet here. All I'm seeing is blue and black."

"It's white and gold," Buford said bluntly. "But that's not why I came running down here. I don't know what you did, Phineas, but you just got yourself upgraded to a class three nerd. Only the chairman's personal enemies have that status. Triple _Bullympics_ points to anyone who gets those guys."

"Who's the chairman?" I asked, though I had a grim feeling I knew the answer. "And more importantly, what color is the dress?"

"The chairman's the guy who looks like a chair," explained Buford. "They call him bully, but they also call me bully, so it cancels out."

"Not bully," Ferb clarified, realizing who led the bullies. "Bull. E. Phineas, I fear you have a giant problem in your hands."

"Ohh," Buford goes. "That makes more sense. Sorry about this, Dinner Bell."

Buford pushes me off the sidewalk and into a puddle by the curb.

"Ten points!" The bully—not the Eberhart kind—brags.

I sigh. It's going to be a long year.

* * *

**You've all seen the dress, right? It would've been hard not to. If you haven't, half of that last seen will confuse you, and you should probably look it up. Seriously: what color is the dress?**

**Okay, so I realize the Chaos part of the name doesn't exactly fit the story, but there's a big _yet_ in that. Patience, my friends, is a virtue. Just not in reviewing. I want reviews and I want them now!**

**~Review! If you please.**


	4. Better Than My Mom

**Well, it's been loads of fun typing up this chapter. We actually go back to Isabella's point of view today, and you know what she's been concerned about... (Hint: it's not the dress.)**

**Guest Reviews!**

**LoveYouEpicThoth: As far as I know, the only way I can see a look through a computer screen is via video chat. And no, I'm not doing that with someone I haven't seen face-to-face first. But hey, I named the chapter white and gold because that's what I see. Next part of comment: yeah, I've been toying around with Ferb's POVs for a while. Settled on that. As for Phineas [censored adjective] winning that competition, it's not this chapter, so tough. And Isabella's dress will not win. That, I promise. PS: Did you know you are the only guest so far to review this story? For me, that's actually really weird.**

* * *

**Isabella**

Yeah, I admit it. For the first time in years, I actually wore a different dress. And yes, it did have something to do with the kiss. You see, day after day I wore the pink dress because Phineas said it was cute. He never said that about any of my other clothes. So the pink stuck. But then Bull E. came on over the loudspeaker, Phineas and I shared an intimate moment, and all of a sudden we felt... different about each other. I realized then that it was unnecessary for me to wear the pink any longer. But let me clarify: I would never—never—put on anything that's black and blue. Let's just say it's a bruised backstory, and leave it at that.

On with the regular backstory now. We were walking home after the second day of school. I won't tell you how the day went. Even Phineas doesn't want to talk about it. Let's just say the bullies won that one.

Anyways, we were walking home together: me, Phineas, Ferb, Baljeet, Buford, and this one other girl I didn't recognize. From the look of things, I guessed (correctly) that she was with Baljeet.

But introductions could wait. There was something much more important. Like, life or death important. Or at the very least, life or worse-life important.

"Oh, Phineas," I cooed, trailing back a few steps behind the rest of them.

Phineas looked back over his shoulder.

"Are you ready for our awkward conversation?"

Phineas slowed down to match my pace. "You know, we don't have to talk about it," he said. "It could be just like it never happened. We've done it before. Wait, what?"

"What if I don't want to?" I asked, ignoring the comment about doing it before. If I don't remember, it still counts. Wait, what?

"Why don't you want to?" I asked.

"Why do you?" I retorted. We were now engaged in a philosophical debate deeper than a swimming pool. I was half-expecting the next question to be simply, 'why?'

Alas, Phineas would not be so lucky. "Alright," he conceded. "You start."

I spoke blatantly: "Was I a good kisser?"

Phineas blushed redder than his hair. "Better than my mom," he answered, immediately regretting his decision to have this conversation. "Is this really the time and place for such questions?" he continued, with a sideways glance at everyone else walking in front of us.

I waved the inquiry aside. "They're not listening."

"Oh, but we are," Buford whispered creepily. I jumped. How did he suddenly teleport himself right next to my ear?

"We are listening very, very carefully," the bully continued.

"Get away, Buford!" I shrieked. "I'm sure you'll have your own awkward conversations eventually."

Buford slinked off, giving me the stink-eye as he did so. But credit to him for not eavesdropping on any of our conversation afterward.

Finally, I was able to redirect my attention to the one thing that mattered: true love—er, Phineas.

* * *

**None**

Phineas smirks. "True love?"

Isabella responds with a groan. "Darn it, Phineas!" she cries. "And I was just redirecting my attention, too!"

"Hey," interjects Buford. "Why is ten times two the same as two times eleven?"

"Not now, Buford!" Phineas and Isabella yell simultaneously.

Buford ignores them. "Because ten times two is twenty, and two times eleven is twenty, too."

If it offered Buford any consolation, Baljeet chuckled. Phineas and Isabella just decided to fight ignorance with ignorance.

"So Isabella, true love?" Phineas coaxes. "Is that what it was?"

"It sounds more romantic," Isabella explains. "In a FanFiction sort of way."

"So you're just saying that for the listeners?" Phineas asks.

"Yeah," Isabella replies.

Phineas hangs his head figuratively. "Wow," he says. "I'm really hurt."

"Well, I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it," Isabella adds, trying to fix her mistake.

Phineas looks back up at her. "So it is true love."

"I never said it was a hundred percent true," she continues.

Phineas smiles. "You didn't have to. Now on with the story. I was enjoying our awkward conversation."

Isabella sighs.

* * *

**Isabella**

I redirected my attention to Phineas. Again. "Now, where were we?"

"You were out-kissing my mom," he explained.

I nodded. "Oh. Well, you out-kissed my dad, too."

"Uhh, thanks?" he said, perplexed.

I smiled. "You're welcome."

"Is that it?" Phineas asked. He seemed almost... _eager_ to end the conversation.

I, on the other hand, was glad I was not the only one being embarrassed. "Nope," I told him. "We still have a lot to talk about. Like doyouwanttobemyboyfriendornot."

"What?" Phineas asked. "You were speaking too fast."

"Yes or no," I demanded.

But Phineas had a way with loopholes. "No," he replied. "But if you ask again, slower this time, I might change my mind."

So I tried again. "Dooooo... youuuu... waaaannntt... tobemyboyfriend? Yes or no."

"What are you even asking me?" Phineas exclaimed. "Do I want tuhbeemubernd?"

I sighed. "Nothing. I was just saying I like you a lot."

"I like you a lot, too," Phineas responded.

"No, I mean like, the two likes in the same sentence kind of 'like you,'" I explained.

"That was three likes," Phineas corrected.

"But that's the wrong sentence!" I complained.

"So what's the right one?" Phineas inquired.

"Not the left one!" I replied. Somehow I couldn't get myself to repeat the words 'like you'.

"That doesn't even make any sense," Phineas argued.

"Neither does love!" I climatically screamed, exasperated.

It takes Phineas a moment to process my words. Even from my vantage point outside his head, I could see the gears turning and cogs spinning as everything clicked into place. When he wants to be, Phineas is a smart kid.

"Wait, is that love as in _like you _like you?" he asked eventually.

Now, I don't always end on a cliffhanger, but when I do,

* * *

**Baljeet**

Well, today—er, that day—was the day. The day I introduced Gill Bates to the rest of the gang. I had warned her about Buford beforehand, and still she opted to hang with us after school, so it was never as if she was unprepared.

But it still struck me as strange that nobody asked about here until we arrived in Phineas's backyard. Perhaps because we were too busy eavesdropping upon Phineas and Isabella.

But who cares about that, really? On with the story.

"Who's the nerd chick?" Buford asked.

"Chicks are the general name of most avian offspring," Gill replied. "I am a gull-grown furl."

"That... almost makes sense," Isabella decided, but Gill never had the chance to fix her mistake, because Buford kept talking.

"Okay, then," he said. "Hey, 'Jeet, who's the lady nerd?"

"Gill Bates," answered Gill. "And I'm a spooner."

"Aww," Isabella sighed, clearly jealous. "I wish I was one of those."

"No," Gill enforced. "You don't. Spooners aren't good cuddlers. They can't keep their strew'rd's weight."

"What?" the collective mass of non-nerds asked.

"Words straight," I corrected. "Spooners cannot help but mix up consonant sounds at the starts of words. Gill is one of those people."

"Yeah, well I don't need names or excuses for lady-nerd," Buford replied.

"That's okay, Bu-fraud," Gill responded nonchalantly.

"What'd you call me?" Buford screamed.

Gill Bates held up her hands in defense. "It was an accident! I'm diseased, remember?"

Buford backed off, and Gill whispered to me, "Short-term memory, noticeably short." Her first impression of Buford. She knew I knew her words were no accidental Freudian slip.

"Anyways," I said, beginning the introductions. "Isabella's in the blue and black dress."

"White and gold," Isabella furiously corrected.

"It's blue and black, actually," Gill decided. "Because I cannot mispronounce those words no matter how hard I try."

"Phineas is the one with the triangular head," I continued.

"He should threes brew trigonometry," Gill humorously observed, before correcting herself: "Breeze through, I mean."

"And the green hair is Ferb's," I concluded. To say hello, Ferb took a slight bow and removed his hair—or so it seemed. I sheepishly amended my statement, saying, "The helmet is Ferb's. The green hair beneath is also his."

As if to prove me wrong, Ferb took that patch of hair off his head as well.

"The person with two helmets and green hair is Ferb," I clarified again, even though it was probably unnecessary."

Then, because Ferb loves messing with me, he pulled a third helmet off of his head.

"I give up," I sighed.

"Pity," replied Ferb. "That was my last hard hat."

Gill laughed. "Nice height of sland—er, sleight of hand," she told Ferb. I just stood there, gaping.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Gill," Phineas said, extending a hand.

"Yeah," agreed Isabella. "You seem like a good kid."

"A nerd is a nerd is a nerd is a nerd," Buford explained. "Ain't nothing ever gonna change that."

Buford was right. Gill remained a nerd. However, by the end of the day, she was his second favorite of them all.

Gill was a unique person indeed. Knowledgeable, yet relatable. A woman of faith, yet one of science. She was fun, yet down-to-earth, and such an element was missing from our group. She helped us with our afternoon project that day, and was extremely helpful in doing so. Before long, we considered Gill an integral part of our little hodge-podge.

* * *

**Phineas**

Don't even get me started on the torture of school that day. Let's just say it was everything Buford said it would be, and then some. In fact, the whole week was like that. But if I'd known then that of all the chaos in the upcoming weeks, the bullying would be the easiest to deal with, I might not have minded so much. Oh, well.

Anyways, I'm only talking now because that night I told everyone about what happened between me and Bull E. last chapter. I explained the rules of the competition and asked if they were with me in this. It's really a short story, I don't know why I even bothered taking time out of my break to tell you this.

Long story short: I have such cool friends. I can tell them, "Hey, I bet my freedom against Eberhart's control, and now I have to show him up on Saturday," and they'll just be like, "Oh, that's cool. We'll totally help you do that."

Actually, only most of them agreed instantly. Isabella was hysterical (she went on a rant about how I did this before and would've lost if Buford didn't change his mind about the bet), and to be honest, Gill looked a little worried as well. Must be a girl thing, and god knows how bad I am at wrapping my head around that. Isabella does, too, but that's beside the point. Anyways, before long, she calmed down and agreed to help. Finally, everything was right in the world. Except for Will Eberhart. He was all wrong, and come Saturday, I was going to prove it.

* * *

**Random question: has anybody noticed the references I've been making? Every chapter so far has made at least one fairly obvious reference to a certain (extremely) extended episode. It's the same one each time, and I promise, every chapter mentions it at least once. No? Then it's game time! Anyone who can tell me what adventure I continuously referenced in these four chapters, and tell me what these references were (so I know you're not guessing) will get their username printed in chapter 5 of the story. Don't worry; it shouldn't be that hard.**


	5. A Grape In A Freezer

**Welp, this will probably be the longest chapter of Chaos Law, clocking it at over 2.5 thousand words. At least you'll have something to read.**

**Also, CONGRATULATIONS to the following Reviewers:**

**1) The WGPM (guest) (not an impostor)**

**2) LoveYouEpicThoth (also guest) (has an amazing name)**

**These two people are the, wait for it, wait for it a little longer, keep on waiting, WINNERS! As a victory prize, they each get their names underlined in this author's note. They correctly determined that the extended episode I was talking about was the most extended episode of them all: the movie itself, Across the Second Dimension. The references were, in order, "I will never forget this kiss like I did the last one. Wait, what?"(1)/"This could be some alternate dimension or something."(2)/"Who might have discovered a second dimension had he ever found the time?"(3)/"It could be just like it never happened. We've done it before. Wait, what?"(4)/"If I don't remember, it still counts. Wait, what?"(4).**

**The runner-up award goes to all other participants. In other words, agentz123. Your name can get printed for participating.**

**Guest reviews!**

**The WGPM: It was so... so... I can't stand the suspense! Come on! It was so what? And I did (WG)PM you. It's just also fun to respond to guests like this. Finally, did you notice, your name got underlined as well.**

**Why do I even need to say I don't own Phineas and Ferb?**

* * *

**Buford**

One week in, and the _Bullympics_ already was looking like a one-horse race. Bull E. was an arm and a leg in front—literally. He dumped an entire bucket of paint on exactly half of Priscilla, turning her arm and her leg green, and putting him comfortably ahead of me.

What I learned so far about Bull was that he was no small-time bully, working to accumulate points gradually. On the contrary, the chairman rarely bullied anyone. But when he did, he bullied hard.

While I had spent all week getting triple points off Phineas and supplementing that with attacks on Baljeet and his new girl Gill, Bull struck a total of three times. The loudspeaker act, the paint on Priscilla, and a hilarious joke on Phineas where he superglued an sulfur-filled whoopee cushion to his pants seat so every time he sat down, he farted, sprayed smell everywhere, and filled the room with an awful stench. Phineas couldn't do anything about that until the end of the day when he finally was able to take his pants off.

If you don't know how the scoring system of the _Bullympics_ works, let me give you the details.

* * *

**None**

"Buford!" Isabella cries. "I thought you were going to talk about our plan for the competition!"

"I am," replies Buford. "But the competition's not for another three days in the story. Figured I should probably kill some time."

"Killing is a crime," Baljeet informs the group.

"So is being a smart mouth," Buford retorts. He raises his fist for effect.

"Buford, we're not telling the story in real time," Phineas explains. "If we did, it would take way too long."

"You know what else takes too long?" Buford asks cryptically.

Phineas sighs, and Buford delivers the punchline: "A microwave minute."

"Just skip to the competition, okay?" Isabella begs.

* * *

**Buford**

**...three days later**

What I remember the most from that day was the crowd. Well, aside from the spoilers, which we'll get to later.

The crowd was massive. Every fat kid in the school must have been there, each one sandwiched between two normal sized kids for comparison. Though I think the fatties were doing more of the actual sandwiching. It was like those before-and-after pictures Bull likes to call the McDonald's effect.

Of course, that doesn't give him, or anyone else affiliated with the story, ownership over McDonald's. Eberhart may be a bully, but copyright infringement is way too complicated a crime for him to get into. It'd mean he has to deal with lawyers and courts and juries—not exactly his strong suit.

What, is no one going it appreciate my pun? Fine. I'll try another one: when the fifth letter of the alphabet gets seriously bent up, the first thing people should do is call it attorney.

Yeah, so the whole school was at the competition. Starting at 9:00am, each team had five hours to build whatever it was they wanted.

Just before the competition started, Phineas gave us a pep talk. Or a game plan, take your pick.

"All right, gang, here's the plan," he said. I guess that makes his pep talk a gang plan. Eh, I was close.

"We're going to build a portal to the second dimension," Phineas decided.

This was the first time he revealed to us what our creation would be, and the massive weight of this project hit us like a giant tire from some convoluted metaphor. We suddenly became so silent I swear I heard a platypus gasp.

"In five hours?" I asked.

Phineas nodded. "With Gill here to help us out I bet we can be done in four."

Lady-nerd smiled.

"So girls take hours," I summarized. "It's like my grandfather said: everything's a metaphor for life if you have nothing else to do but wonder how."

"Actually, we have a lot to do," Phineas countered. "Buford, I'm gonna need you to make the framework. Baljeet and Gill: you two are on programming. Isabella, you get the shroud of mystery and the musical score. And Ferb and I will make it look nice by adding decorations like a Take that, Bull! sign. We clear?"

"Yep," the group—er, gang, I suppose—confirmed.

"Great," said Phineas. "Let's go kick some Bull E. chassis!"

"Bullies do not have chassis," Baljeet clarified.

Phineas shrugged. "Eh. It rhymes."

Spoiler alert: chassis was not kicked that day. At least, not literally. The games begun, and we whistled while we worked. Or, more accurately, sang while we worked.

* * *

_Today I will show my face_

_Put the bullies in their place_

_Prove they all are a disgrace_

_To middle school_

_..._

_Sun is shining, time for fun_

_New adventure's just begun_

_Let it be the greatest one_

_We have the tools_

_..._

_There's six of us working together_

_Best friends forever_

_Nothing can ever_

_Tear that down_

_..._

_And now we have time for romancing_

_Singing and dancing_

_Laughing and prancing_

_All around_

_..._

_And I'm having the time of my life with you_

_Stop and think of all the wonderful things that we could do (together)_

_Tell me now that this was meant to be_

_A new world has just been found and explored by you and me (together)_

_..._

_Now let's go_

_I'm ready to show_

_That I'm boss, I'm in control_

_That I'm boss, I have a goal_

_(That's right)_

_..._

_It's the day_

_That I get my way_

_Starting now, come out and play_

_Starting now, hear what I say_

_(That's right)_

_..._

_I'm having the time of my life with you_

_Stop and think of all the wonderful things that we could do (together)_

_Tell me now that this was meant to be_

_A new world has just been found and explored by you and me (together)_

_..._

_I'm having the time of my life_

_Harvesting a new crop_

_And forging a golden crown_

_..._

_I'm having the time of my life_

_And I ain't gonna stop_

_'Cause nothing can slow me down_

_..._

_I'm having the time of my life with you_

_Stop and think of all the wonderful things that we could do (together)_

_Tell me now that this was meant to be_

_A new world has just been found and explored by you and me (together)_

_..._

_I'm having the time of my life with you_

_Stop and think of all the wonderful things that we could do (together)_

_Tell me now that this was meant to be_

_A new world has just been found and explored by you and me (together)_

_..._

_A new world has just been found and explored by you and me_

_And I thought it would be fun to be singing happily_

* * *

**Phineas**

First off, kudos to Isabella for that brilliant song. But all formalities aside, I'm here to talk about judgement time. Two o'clock came and went, and the bell sounded signaling the end.

"Time's up already?" I cried, surprised by how quickly the five hours passed. "I didn't even get to finish my milkshake!"

Bull smiled. "You're gonna lose, kid. You're gonna lose harder than a grape in a freezer."

I returned the smile. "We'll see."

Bull E. turned to face the audience, whose applause would be the judge of winner and loser. "I'll go first," he said. A dramatic tarp shielded his creation from the public eye.

I shook my head, regretting that we had not thought of putting a dramatic tarp up to hide our invention. We just had an ordinary trap, which was far less dramatic. Isabella's shroud of mystery wasn't very mysterious or dramatic. But despite lacking in drama, it served its purpose, so nobody complained.

With a flourish, William Eberhart pulled his dramatic tarp off dramatically, showing to everyone what he had designed. It was dramatic indeed, and drama ensued.

* * *

**None**

"Whoa!" yells Buford. "Who are you, the redundant scribe of redundantness?"

"He lived in 1542," Phineas explains. "I don't. So, no. I'm not him."

"But you're repeatedly repeating things in repetitive manners," Buford argues.

"Yeah," agrees Isabella. "There's too much drama."

Phineas sighs. "All right, then. I'll stop."

* * *

**Phineas**

Bull E. had built a statue. Of me. During the whoopee cushion incident, when I looked and felt the worst. It stood at seventeen feet tall and I absolutely hated it.

The audience didn't, though. They laughed. Loudly.

"That's not all!" Bull said, pulling a remote out of his pocket. He pushed a button, and the joints in the statue turned, causing big fake Phineas to sit down in the giant chair behind him.

_Thbbbbbbbbt!_ The unmistakable fart noises emanated from the statue the moment rear touched seat, generating even more laughs from the audience.

Eberhart pushed another button, and metal me swung his head forward, banging it nose-first into the desk. Then the statue picked its head up for the next punchline: my nose had pierced _through_ the desk.

If you thought the audience could laugh any louder, you thought wrong. They did.

Even that wasn't the end of it. More switches were flipped, and the desk top, now stuck to my nose, underwent a major transformation. When finished, even more laughs followed, for my metal head was now depicted as a slice of cheese, with what was once the desk now looking like the remainder of a cheese wheel. Finally, the cheese wheel separated from my head and flew into the sky, ultimately exploding in a collection of fireworks. The audience oohed and aahed, laughing one last time when the fireworks spelled: _Why should he win?_

My _"Take that, Bull!"_ banner seemed pretty pathetic in comparison.

"That's what I did in five hours," Bull E. concluded. Then, looking at me, he asked, "What did you do?"

I glanced at Ferb, still trying to feign confidence. "Care to do the honors?"

Ferb pulled a lever, and a giant robotic arm reached up and yanked the shroud of mystery away, revealing our portal.

William laughed. "A _hoop_? I build a seventeen-foot statue and you respond with a _hoop_?"

"It's not just any hoop," I explained, nodding to Ferb. My brother then commanded the robotic arm to pull a lever right next to him, which in turn activated another robotic arm. This second arm reached over to the portal and pushed a button. A flap on the side opened, and now everyone saw the hamster running on the wheel, turning a crank. As the crank turned, the portal began to spin in all directions, much like a gyroscope. Time passed, and the speed picked up. At the epicenter of this a spark started to form, gradually expanding outwards.

"It's working," I screamed. "It's working!"

The spark grew to fill the entire portal, and the moment it did, the metal frame stopped spinning.

"Ladies and gentlemen," I announced. "The world's second—wait, what? First. _First_! The world's _first_ glimpse of the second dimension!"

The portal short-circuited and disappeared, sending a gust of wind across the crowd.

I glared at the hamster. "Hammy!" I yelled.

The rodent started running again, but nothing changed. The metal frame didn't even spin this time.

Desperately, I reached for the control panel, fiddling with the portal in every way I could think of at the time.

"Just a few technical difficulties," Baljeet explained to the audience, wearing an embarrassed smile on his face.

"Aha!" I said, pushing a button. The spark formed again in the middle, and began to grow. But when it reached the edge of the frame, it didn't stop. Instead, it continued to expand, the rate picking up exponentially. Then for the second time, everything short-circuited and the portal went blank.

So I tried one more time, and only succeeded in setting the frame on fire.

"Jump through it, circus boy!" one kid from the audience yelled.

"Yeah!" added another heckler, desperate to get in on the action. "And spin a beach ball on your nose, too!"

Bull E. shook his head. "Well," he said, "I think it's clear who won this one. Welcome to the Eberhart Nerd Plantation."

My face fell. Middle school was not looking up.

* * *

**Baljeet**

Something obviously went wrong during our performance, and I had to figure out what. I took the portal home with me, and began examining every detail, going over every square inch of that machine with a fine-toothed comb. At first, everything seemed perfect. I found no error in the framework, or the wiring, or the decoration. Even the programming looked absolutely flawless.

Therefore, I opted to tackle the problem backwards. Based on what I saw go wrong, I would identify what the cause of that problem might be. The first thought which occurred to me was that the gyroscopic field created by the frame failed to contain the portal within itself. The error, then, would likely exist in the programming of the spin pattern. Gill was in charge of designing that part.

But there was no possible way Gill would make a mistake so amateur as incorrectly calculating a series of circular reflections around a single point. Even a regular sixth-grade student could do it.

Regardless of how simple they may have been, I double-checked those calculations, if only to calm my fears.

My fears were not calmed in doing so. Instead, they were amplified.

In her calculations, Gill had accounted for an unnecessary factor. She had accounted for the air resistance dramatically changing the shape of the frame from a circle to an ellipse. Despite the fact that at the speeds the frame was spinning at were not nearly fast enough to cause the molecules in the sky to deform the sturdy metal frame. Henceforth, as the portal expanded, it did not meet the metal framework where it should have according to Gill's formulas.

* * *

**None**

"Really?" Buford cries. "I don't get to explain how the Bullympics are scored, but you sit and let 'Jeet here talk all about Gill's mistake! Nobody wants to listen to this nerd-talk!"

"The mistake was important," explains Baljeet.

"So are the Bullympics!" Buford yells, outraged. "They're the whole reason behind lady-nerd's betrayal!"

"Spoiler alert!" Phineas, Ferb, Isabella, and Baljeet yell. Then Phineas continues by saying, "Quick, Baljeet, skip to that part so that Buford's spoiler wasn't so major."

Baljeet protests. "But—"

"Do it!" Phineas screams.

* * *

**Baljeet**

When next I saw her, I confronted Gill about the mistake.

"I what?" she asked, unconvincingly.

"You added an extra variable. The frame could not have been altered from its circular shape."

"Cur it should have," Gill responded. "That is why I added the formula."

_Sure it could have_, I thought, silently correcting her.

"Gill, the frame was designed with lead-lined titanium, and the interior was hollow, supported with pillars like a bird's bones. There is no way air resistance could _possibly_ alter the shape."

"But... my calculations..."

"I double-checked those," I told her. "Or, at least I tried double-checking them. You did not show any work."

"I did whoa my shirk," Gill complained. "Show my work, I mean. I know I did. I know it!"

I sensed the queasiness in her voice. It was not hard; certainly less hard than a grape in a freezer. So I spoke blatantly: "You are not a good liar."

Gill broke out crying. Seriously. Like, absolutely weeping. I was not expecting such a passionate response.

"I am sorry!" she confessed, speaking quickly. "It was Bull! He was forcing me to work onnis Herd Plantation and wanted me to infiltrate your group and mess up your invention and I am so so sorry and I never ever ever tent moo do anything like that ever but he forced me to and I had no choice except to do what he mold tee and—"

"Grammar!" I warned. But that was all the helping I was in the mood for. When Gill finally calmed down enough to listen, I gave my input. And it was not a forgiving one.

"Think of what Bull did to you," I said. "That is what you did to Phineas."

* * *

**LoveYouEpicThoth: No, I didn't forget about your review. I just wanted to respond to it down here, after you read the whole chapter. Why, you ask? Because it seems like whenever you say that the occurrence of a certain event will upset you, that certain event happens to be an important part of the plot. In this case, it was Gill's betrayal, which I had planned since the beginning of the story. I just can't seem to please you, can I? Although you did seem impressed by that awkward conversation.**

**Yeah... so... Phineas lost. Poor kid. And Gill betrayed him. Oh well! You just have to deal with it, I guess. That's just the way things go.**

**~Review! If you please.**


	6. My Crow-Soft Billionaire

**I've been anticipating this chapter since I started the story. I'm sure you'll love it!**

**Guest review!**

**LoveYouEpicThoth: Yep. You won. Congratulations, and whatnot. I thought Last Day of Summer wasn't that bad an episode. It was certainly a fitting finale, I would say. My only problem with it is that it was the last episode. I believe you (of course I do). And... wow! Such cold wishes for Bull! You would really wish that on a person?! It's okay; that's probably how we all feel. And Gill broke everyone's hearts. Except mine, because I knew she would do that. Finally, so I didn't continue the Phinbella moment from chapter 4. Oh, well. But fear not, this chapter will have plenty of Phineas and Isabella (and also a fair amount of Gill).**

**Why do I even need to say that I don't own Phineas and Ferb?**

* * *

**Isabella**

I woke up early the next morning so I could get over to Phineas's house. It being a Sunday, this was to be his last day of freedom before school started up again, and he would be forced to–

I shudder at the thought.

Anyways, I was walking up Phineas's driveway when Gill entered, right next to me.

"Whatcha doin'?" I asked her. At this point, Baljeet hadn't gotten the word out about Gill's betrayal, so I knew nothing of the sort.

Gill, however, was ready to spill the beans. She had obviously spent all last night preparing for this moment.

"I need to apologize to Phineas," she replied, and when I asked why, she told me how she betrayed him, ruined the portal intentionally.

"You probably mate he now," Gill finished. "Hate me. I will not blame you if you do."

"Hate you for what?" I asked. "Breaking the portal? Ruining Phineas? Yeah. I do hate you for that. But for apologizing? Offering him your assistance? Never."

Gill gave me a half-smile. Trying to hide my newfound resentment for her, we walked together through the fence gate.

Phineas spoke before I could even throw my catchphrase at him.

"Hey, girlfriend!" he yelled joyously, leaping up and running towards me.

I was startled. Our awkward conversation the other day didn't go that far. It kind of ended when I

Not that I was disappointed at Phineas's reaction to seeing me. The disappointing part was when I realized it wasn't me he was talking to. He ran past me and embraced Gill in a gigantic hug, and gave her a passionate kiss.

"Phineas!" I cried. "What are you—"

Phineas laughed. "I swear, it's like I need to introduce you two every day. Gill, this is my best friend Isabella. Isabella, this is my girlfriend Gill."

"We've met," I say coldly, wondering what was going on.

Gill pushed Phineas away. "I'm not your girlfriend!" she screamed, disgusted by his recent actions.

"Sure you are, my sweet fish out of water," Phineas soothed, reaching for her hand again. Gill swatted it away defensively.

"Gill!" Phineas exclaimed. "Come on, my crow-soft billionaire! We've been dating ever since that guy on the loudspeaker forced us to kiss on the first day of school!"

"No, we haven't," Gill pleaded, practically begging for mercy. "I came to apologize about—"

"About what?" Phineas asked. "What could the Jill to my Jack have possibly done to offend me?"

"Phineas," I interrupt. "You never kissed Gill! Can't you see she's not your girlfriend?"

"I can see her preparing for April Fool's Day," Phineas continued, unfazed. He reached out to Gill a third time. "Joke's over, incu-Bates."

Finally, Gill panicked. She took to her heels, and ran away fast. Determined to show her reason, Phineas followed, leaving me alone with Ferb in the backyard.

I looked at the Brit, who had been sitting quietly under the tree that whole time.

"What was that all about?" I asked him.

Ferb shrugged his shoulders. He was just as baffled as I was.

* * *

**Phineas**

I decided to spend that Sunday morning—my last free Sunday morning—with Isabella. First, I took the initiative and showed up at her house early in the morning. Then, I rang the doorbell, and Mrs. Garcia-Shapiro ushered me inside.

"The girls are in Isabella's bedroom," she said. "Just knock on the door before you go in."

It wasn't until I had already knocked that the word girls registered with me. Girls, as in more than one.

I must have thought that it was simply a few of Isabella's Fireside Girl friends, who had perhaps come to stay the night. But they were speaking loudly on the other side of the door, begging me to eavesdrop. They hadn't heard me knock, either.

"I have never been on a date before," one girl said. "What if he does not like my peach Saturn?"

I jumped, startled by the peach Saturn.

Er, speech pattern. It was unmistakably Gill's.

"Your speech pattern is Phineas's favorite thing about you," another voice replied, soothing Gill. Unbeknownst to her, the same words absolutely befuddled me. To a point where I had no choice but to slam the door open.

The two girls in the room jumped.

"Phineas!" Isabella shrieked, astonished. "What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here?" I shot back.

"This is my house," Isabella explained. "I live here!"

"Oh." I was mortified that such an obvious fact had flown over my head. So I turned to Gill. "Then what are you doing here?"

"We're getting Gill dressed for your date," Isabella explained. "She didn't have anything in her house, so we came to mine."

I looked at them, even more confused than I already was. "Our date?" I inquired.

"Yes, our date, my Strawberry Cheesecake," Gill replied. "You didn't forget, did you?"

I don't think I chose my next words carefully enough. They were: "I didn't know I was dating you."

"If you're lowing to guy—going to lie, Mr. Acute-n-Cuddly, then I suggest you be more convincing," Gill advised. "We've been dating for almost a week."

"I'm not dating anyone!" I cried. "And if I was, it would be Isabella, because she's the one I kissed!"

The one time I needed my words to fail me, give me time to rethink what I was going to say, they didn't. They came out loud and clear, and a brief silence settled on the room afterwards.

"We never kissed," Isabella said. "I would know." Then she turned to Gill, and handed her a dress. "Here, try this on."

Gill shook her head. "I like what I'm wearing now," she said. "And since my Gretel's Hansel is already here and handsome, why don't we dit this gate started?"

With that, Gill grabbed me by the arm and led me out of the house.

"Gill," I protested.

Gill looked at me. "Only address me by my net pains, remember?" Then she laughed. "I mean pet names. But you've always had trouble following that rule. I need to get you into the habit, my Law of Sines."

"Gill," I repeated, firmly.

She wagged a finger at me. "What is my name?" she asked.

I sighed. "Darling?" I questioned, hoping I was a good guesser.

"No!" she screamed. "No nicknames that other people use, remember?"

I didn't, but I couldn't really protest. So, racking my brain for an ounce of creativity, I tried again. "Fish Baits?"

"Too ugly," she reminded me. "Are you all right, acutiepie? It is like we were never even dating!"

"We weren't!" I yelled.

"New dot say that!" she screamed back. Then a thought struck her. Gently, Gill reached her arms around my neck and pulled my lips towards hers, kissing them with the softness of stomach fat and the warmth of a frying pan.

I tried to hate it. I really did. But honestly, after a second I found myself kissing her back. It was a real tongue-in-cheek moment.

"Better?" Gill asked.

I wasn't, but I didn't want to be rude. "Sure," I said. "Thanks, miss little piggy."

"Ooh," she replied. "Haven't heard that one before!"

"I... was saving it for later," I excused. "Now, where were we going?"

Gill Bates laughs again. "Some ploys bay hard-to-get," she decided. "Not you. You play easy-to-forget."

I faked a smile. "That's me," I said, pretending to chuckle. "Knows all, knows none."

I wished more than ever that in that moment, I really did know all. Because I was more confused than a scarecrow in a corn maze.

* * *

**Yeah, this is where things start to make no sense. If you can't comprehend the big picture, and I don't expect you to, just take it at face value. Laugh at the jokes; that's all I'm trying to get you to do.**

**~Review! If you please.**


	7. I Kinda Love You

**Okay, so the last chapter was confusing. In more ways than two. Well, that's to be expected. This story is called _Chaos Law_ for a reason, you know. That reason is: the story is chaotic. I told you it would be. I also don't own Phineas and Ferb. I think I told you that, too. Otherwise the show would still be running.**

**Guest review!**

**LoveYouEpicThoth: That's a lot of confusion in one review. Are you sure you weren't flummoxed, flabbergasted, bewildered, befuddled, or disoriented? Oh, that's right. I did make Phineas and Gill kiss twice. Thrice if you count Monday. To answer your questions in order: yes, the story, something funny. Hopefully this chapter will stop your whining in frustration. I would hate to see you whining past the day you die. Or even for more than an hour.**

* * *

**Ferb**

...

* * *

**None**

"Oh, come on Ferb," Phineas whines. "You can't go on being silent forever!"

"It suits me," Ferb replies.

"Well, it doesn't suit the story!" counters Isabella.

"The story is perfectly capable of dressing itself," Ferb answers.

"Ferb, you are the only person who can tell this part," Baljeet explains.

Ferb stands up and raises his right leg slowly. Then he pivots abruptly on his left foot, bending over backward and kicking both feet up into the air. Fueled by this momentum, the British child spins around on his head three times, his feet separated and imitating a helicopter blade, before falling over and launching into a perfect worm. He then raises his chest off the ground, and continues worming—or whatever the proper term is—at a small angle, which gradually gets larger and larger until Ferb is just shaking back and forth, standing upright. Continuing to move like this, Ferb smoothly sails backwards, before doing one final pivot and standing with his feet double-shoulder width apart, his head facing down and his left hand pointing at the far corner of the room.

Phineas brightens up. "Great idea, Ferb!" he says. "You use sign language and we'll translate!"

"Or he could just talk like a normal guy," Buford suggests.

Phineas quickly dismisses the thought. "Nah," he says. "It's too complicated."

* * *

**Ferb**

**As translated from FSL (Ferb Sign Language)**

So there I was, reclining on the grass beneath the oak tree in my family's back garden, treating myself to a healthy breakfast of bangers and mash. My lad Phineas was plopped on the ground adjacent to me, undoubtedly plotting today's scheme, which we would soon be wrapped up in the centre of. Personally, I wondered when the next football match (that's soccer for you uneducated Americans, Canadians, and Australians) would be on the telly, and if the Nostrils would win. I might head over to my mate's flat to watch the match, and celebrate with a couple of biscuits—cookies for the cultured—should my team win. Afterwards, I had planned to treat myself to a delightful lunch of tea and crumpets, followed by fish and chips for dinner and perhaps some plum pudding for dessert. Then I could wind down with a nice, relaxing evening at the theatre, before politely manoeuvring through the crowds with my pinkies raised, occupying the rest of my time with whatever other British trademark I could imagine.

Buford, that is not what I am signing. Stop mocking me.

Thank you.

After the whole fiasco between Phineas and Gill in the backyard, Isabella and I were left alone together. I gave her my specialty—silence—but I guess she wanted more of an icebreaker. So she excused herself to use the bathroom, and exited through the sliding doors.

Not thirty seconds later, Isabella reentered the backyard... through the fence gate.

"Hey, Ferb!" she said.

I nodded back, trying to hide my surprise.

Then I remembered a similar incident earlier this morning. Phineas had been with me in the backyard, then left through the fence gate to speak with Isabella. Shortly afterwards, he walked back into the backyard through the sliding doors.

"So," Isabella asked. "Whatcha doin'?"

I blinked.

"Going back to the silent days, huh?" Isabella noticed, sitting down in Phineas's spot beside the tree.

I blinked again, wondering what she meant by 'back to'.

"I see," observed Isabella. And evidently I wasn't doing much to hide my confusion, for she continued with, "Are you alright, Ferb? You look troubled."

Then, to her at least, it became clear. "Is this about Phineas and Gill?" she asked.

I nodded, but mostly because I had no other option.

Isabella smiled. "I knew it. You're worried that because Phineas is dating Gill, he can't spend as much time with you."

Phineas _wasn't_ dating Gill, and I _wasn't_ worried about that, but—

A thought struck me like non-fatal lightning. When Phineas returned to the backyard, he did not seem like himself. The entire episode with Gill proved that. Now the Isabella who returned to the backyard was acting unusual. What if she, like Phineas, did not have the same personality as when she left the backyard? I realised then that the backyard could be a trap. The moment somebody left, they stopped being themselves, and started being someone else. To prove my hypothesis, I would just have to determine whether or not the Isabella next to me had the same personality as the one who wanted to use the bathroom.

"I thought of the two of us, you'd be more upset over Phineas and Gill," I ventured.

"Me?" Isabella asked. "Upset? I don't know why you think so. A triangle's not exactly my favourite shape. There's just not enough sides to make things interesting."

"So what is your favourite shape?" I inquired. Yes, it was a lot of talking, but according to Isabella I had become a talkative spatula.

Person. I had become a talkative person. Small translation error on Phineas's part.

"A rectangle," Isabella replied. "There's just something so perfect and irresistible about parallel lines."

Wait... was she talking about me? Could Isabella really be crushing on me? She should know I'm more perceptive than Phineas.

_Impossible_, I decided silently. _Unless... my backyard theory is true._

Of course, I could just be overreacting. Some people just really like rectangles. I needed more evidence.

So I raised my eyebrows, silently asking whether she meant to compare my face to her favourite shape.

Isabella leapt to the back foot. "Oh, it's not like that. I mean, your face is a rectangle and I love rectangles, but that doesn't mean I love your face."

I feigned dejection. Isabella continued spilling the beans. They were baked beans, too. My favourite. And a generic brand to avoid copyright issues. Hopefully I would be able to pick them up before their lovely polish got ruined. They do have the five-second rule in Britain, you know.

Buford, I thought you agreed to stop. Well, agree now.

Thank you.

"It doesn't mean I don't love your face, either," Isabella said desperately, but the conversation was already beyond repair. "It's perfect and parallel and actually kinda cute."

Now I pretended to be surprised, as if she were confessing love for me. Hand me a towel.

Please. Hand me a towel.

* * *

**None**

"Oh," Baljeet realizes. "You actually want us to hand you a towel. I will see what strings I can pull."

"Don't pull the strings in the towel," Isabella warns. "You might unravel it, and then what would you give Ferb?"

"I will be careful," Baljeet promises.

Three seconds later, a towel finds its way into Ferb's hands. He promptly uses it to mop up the sweat which accumulated on his person.

"Well, that was quite the 700-word workout for you, huh?" Phineas asks.

Ferb drinks a glass of water.

"Do you need a break?" Isabella adds. "I'm sure the audience won't mind another cliffhanger."

"I think they'll mind," Buford argues. "I know I would."

So Isabella amends her statement. "I'm sure the audience will _survive_ another cliffhanger."

"There is no guarantee of that, either," counters Baljeet. "There could be some person in the audience who will perish between now and when this cliffhanger is resolved."

"Baljeet!" exclaims Phineas. "Do we really need to know this?"

"Do not worry," Baljeet soothes. "The probability of such an event actually occurring is incredibly low. Less than fifty percent."

"Or not quite half the time," Isabella rewords.

"Exactly," affirms Baljeet. "Chances are it will not happen to anyone. But it is a possibility, and therefore Isabella might be wrong."

"Let's hope she isn't," Buford decides. "Though it would be kinda cool to see Isabella wrong for once."

Dissatisfied with the banter, Ferb holds up a hand.

"I can continue," he signs.

* * *

**Ferb**

**As still translated from FSL**

"And now you're thinking that I love you," Isabella realised, laughing. "Because you have a cute rectangular face and I love rectangles and sometimes I visit you in Ferbland and... but it's not like that. I mean, I love you, but I don't _love you_ love you. It's love, you know, but it's not _love_ love. It's like– It's like kinda love. That's it. I kinda love you."

Flustered, Isabella decided—much too late—that it was best to simply stop talking. Her speech reminded me of a sinking ship hitting an iceberg, ano proceeding to sink even faster.

However, since Isabella refused to speak any further, I realised I would have one more line before the chapter ended.

"Isabella, if you love me, just say so."

"So," she replied automatically. She had escaped the sinking ship, and grabbed on to the life preserver I had thrown her, holding on for dear life. And, I suppose, for romance.

"I love you, Ferb," she confessed. "I always have, ever since the day we met. It's just your face was my favourite shape and your hair was my favourite colour and you barely spoke which meant I could speak a lot and everything about you was so perfect and—"

I stopped her with a wave of my hand. I had heard enough to determine that this was not the same Isabella who left the backyard. She had been changed, just like everyone else. First Phineas, then her, and probably Gill also, although I hadn't seen her since she left the backyard.

That was when the scariest thought of all struck me: I was in the backyard. Luckily, I hadn't left yet, but I feared what would become of me when I finally did. Would I start dating Isabella? Would I mind that? Would I enjoy it? Is this what was meant to be now?

All those questions and more I asked myself, and I answered every one in my head. Unfortunately, most were the sort of answers I feel uncomfortable signing to the public.

At any rate, the moment I realised I was trapped, I knew what I had to do. Just because I was unable to leave the backyard did not mean others would have to face the same fate. So I called Spee-D Delivery Service and asked for a big hunk of metal. Then I pulled a welding torch from out of nowhere, lowered the accompanying protective mask over my face, and turned the torch on for effect. I had work to do.

* * *

**Forgot to mention: this is Ferb's chapter. (Yay!) It'll probably be his only one, though. I mean, FSL is exhaustive, and based loosely off of Ferb-Latin. It's not complete Ferb-Latin, because that's out of fashion, but it's similar. And another thing: we kind of have a love polygon going on now. For those of you not counting, we've seen hints Baljeet/Gill (Giljeet or Balgill, take your pick), definite Phineas/Gill (Phill or Gilneas, take your pick again), a Phineas/Isabella (Phinbella or Phinabella or Phineabella or Phinella or Phibella; I'm not sure how it's officially spelled) kiss and conversation, and now some Ferb/Isabella (Ferbella or, less commonly, Isaferb). What's next? Baljeet/Isabella (Balbella or Isajeet)? Gill/Ferb (Gerb, perhaps? Or Fill? Maybe even Fergill or Gillerb!) Some relationship with an unnamed boy/girl? Does anybody even have half an idea as to what is going on?**

**~Review! If you please.**


	8. Missing Vocal Cords

**...no guest reviews this time. Just an obligatory statement wondering why I need to publicize my lack of ownership over Phineas and Ferb. That said, I would like to send a message to guest Dreadwing216 (if (s)he is reading this). The message is this: the parody you wrote in your review to Dead Man's Diary has been instead added to this very chapter.**

* * *

**Baljeet**

I knew I had the brain of a high school student, but I thought it would be years before I had the _body_ of one. Yet here I was, too big for any of the clothes in my closet.

...except all the clothes in my closet were different as well. I breathed a sigh of relief, because it meant they fit me. So I put some on and went outside to clear my head. I could not actually be high school age... _could I_? It was a mystery, and those were never easy to solve.

The last thing I remembered when I woke up that morning was my conversation with Gill the night before. Or, I supposed, from a few years ago now.

I headed over towards Phineas's house, hoping he would have a theory. However, as I walked, I saw four others walking on the other side of the street: Phineas, Buford, Irving, and Django—all of them high school age, like me.

There were two strange things about that. First, Phineas without Ferb, and second, Irving and Django, whose combined roles in the story so far were limited to the sole act of kissing Priscilla, another character we had never met.

...that sounded strange. Let me clarify: Django did not kiss Priscilla, to the best of my knowledge. Only Irving kissed Priscilla, and that was way back in the second scene.

But I am not confirming that Django did not kiss Priscilla. That is to say, I cannot guarantee that no kiss ever occurred between the two. I do not know whether or not Django and Priscilla ever kissed. However, I think it is unlikely that they did at some point. Then again, that some point is probably in the future—er, after my memory ends (or some time between sixth-grade-age me and high-school-age me)—and who am I to predict that? I would have to be a fortune teller, and I have not believed in those ever since I went to see one and she predicted that I would fall down the stairs, which I did on my way out. So it is a possibility.

The kiss, I mean. Not fortune tellers being real. Those stairs were obviously rigged. The kiss is a possibility. After all, who can know for sure, really? Maybe they start dating in seventh grade. Maybe Priscilla's lips met Django's kisser. It could even be the other way around.

Before I stray too far off topic, let me get back to why fortune tellers are not real.

* * *

**None**

"Baljeet," Isabella points out. "You're already off topic. You saw—or will see—Irving, Phineas, Buford, and Django, and started rambling about Django and Priscilla kissing."

"It wasn't a ramble," Buford joked. "It was a fantasy."

"Buford!" Baljeet screams. Then he gasps. And screams again.

"Aiieee! You are right! I have gone off topic! I will get right back on topic immediately."

* * *

**Baljeet**

Apparently, I was observing Django, Phineas, Irving, and Buford walking down the other side of the street when I started rambling.

* * *

**None**

"_Fantasizing_," Buford corrects.

"Rambling," Baljeet counters.

"Fantasizing."

"Rambling."

"I think we need a commercial break," Phineas says.

* * *

_A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away..._

_'Wonder' is a curious word. One can wonder many things without ever knowing the truth. For instance, what was happening to the land?_

_Given there was one in the area, the ground began fluctuating rapidly and started to shake. It took on a white aura and glowed brilliantly. The moment when the ground returned to its normal, earthy state was the moment when the people—or whatever they look like in your world—realized how massively crowded the area had become. One could not hold their arms out without touching something else (if they had arms, that is). Throughout the crowd were humans and creatures alike who had no clue who, and more often what, their neighbor was and if their fluorescent hair color was natural or dyed._

_The natural reaction was to wonder what just happened. And, since common sense is a very rare thing in this world, or any world, only a very small number of life forms actually considered this. Every man, woman, and giant green monster out there had to find their own way to cope during The Great Combine, the day when the giant hand suddenly reached out of nowhere and plucked away the very boundaries separating all the individual universes, combining them all into one big blurry cloud._

_Parliament, unsurprisingly, was the first to fall._

_Ah, but those were the glory days. Adaptations during The Great Combine proved that men were real men, women were real women, and politicians were—well, mincemeat. People quickly settled their differences and assembled a government (as no one had seriously believed the old one existed), the Big Bad Wolf was sent to jail for gobbling up young girls in red hoodies, the little star twinkling like a diamond up high in the sky confessed to everyone who was wondering that it was really a llama, and in the end, they all lived happily ever after._

_But that was a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. Let's try it again here and see what happens! After all, this is..._

_The Glory of FanFiction!_

_Coming soon to a website near you._

* * *

**Baljeet**

And we are back, baby! Rest assured, this time I will be more focused than a dingo at dinnertime. Because a dingo at dinnertime is completely focused on catching its prey so that it may eat, and that kind of focus is the kind of focus that I will show for the rest of this scene. In fact, a dingo is so focused on the chase that one often forgets about the rest of the pack in the heat of—

Focus, Baljeet. Focus.

So I crossed the street to join my fellow high school companions.

Phineas put the first word in.

"Baljeet!" he said. "What a surprise to see you here! I thought were off applying for an internship at NASA."

"It must be my day off," I argued.

"Well, it's great to have you here!" Irving said. "We were just reminiscing over old times."

"Yeah," Django agreed. "Like—_oh_! Remember that time in eighth grade when Buford hit me in the face with that dodgeball during gym class?"

"No," I said, struck with the realization that these people had lived through the times I forgot. "I must not have been there."

"It was great," Django continued, "Buford was like, 'I bet that's going to hurt for a few days,' but I said to him, 'Tis but a scratch, Buford!'"

"You know, like from that _Holy Grail_ scene," Irving explained. "I remember that!"

"The movie, or the gym class?" Phineas asked.

"Yes," Irving replied.

At this point, Buford held out a hand, forcing everyone to a complete stop.

"Hold on," he said, pointing across the street. "Is that William Eberhart?"

Everyone looked. And everyone saw the resemblance.

"It _is_ Will," Buford realized. "Man, this is going to be great!"

"Hey, Bull!" Django screamed, beckoning the boy over.

Bull E. looked up, and I could have sworn I saw terror on his face when he recognized us. Nonetheless, he crossed the street and joined us.

"No funny business, okay?" he warned.

"It's nothing," Django said. "I was just wondering if you believed in antidisestablishmentarianism."

"I _said_ no funny business!" William yelled.

"I was being serious," Django replied, his eyes simultaneously full of sympathy and sarcasm. "I wanted to know if you believed in it."

"_I_ don't believe in antidisestablishmentarianism," Irving offered.

"Really?" Phineas asked, joining in. "That's uncharacteristically pro-government of you."

"Stop it, guys," Bull complained, and I wondered why he seemed so afraid of everyone.

"It's true," Irving continued, ignoring Eberhart's words. "Ever since I became a transubstantiationalist."

"Really?" asked Phineas. "Wow. I— I don't know what to say."

"Then say supercalafragilisticexpialadocious," Buford suggested.

"Really, guys," Bull E. said, his eyes full of fear. "It's not funny."

"You're right," Django agreed. "Being a transubstantiationalist is nothing to laugh about. When did this happen, Irving?"

"Oh, about six months ago," Irving answered. "But I'm planning on still being one when I'm a septuagenarian."

"You know what?" William decided. "I'm going now. I thought you guys had changed, but clearly not."

"Changed how?" Phineas asked. "We haven't done anything wrong."

"All those big words," replied Will. "It's not normal. I can say all I want in three syllables."

"Yeah, yeah," said Buford. "Unless you're 'embarrassing.' Sounds perfectly logical."

"Besides," Phineas added. "Long words are perfectly normal to use in conversation. If you can't get over your hippopottomonstro—"

"Aaaaah!" Bull E. screamed. "I give up!"

He covered his ears and removed himself from the situation as quickly as possible. But I had already learned what I needed to know. The big, mighty, and powerful bully had hippopottomonstrosesquippedaliaphobia. He was afraid of long words.

* * *

**Buford**

I think that of all the weird Sundays everyone had, my Sunday was the weirdest. Except maybe Baljeet's. His Sunday was pretty weird. Oh, and Phineas's. And lady-nerd's, and Isabella's, and Ferb's, and— you know what? Let's just say that I had a weird Sunday.

It all started when a platypus made me follow him. I was walking out of my house to go meet Dinner Bell and the rest of the gang, when I tripped over Perry on the way out the door.

"Is this where you go every day?" I asked him. "My house?"

Perry chattered. If he had a crime-fighting alter ego, I would be none the wiser. His blank stare and teal fur and four legs were enough to fool me.

What am I saying? Secret Agent Perry? That's crazy talk. He doesn't do much. In fact, he just walked a little further down the block, and wouldn't continue until I followed him.

"Where're you taking me?" I asked him. Naturally, he couldn't respond. Something about missing vocal cords. And no mouth (it's a bill). And—oh, that's right, he's a _platypus_.

So I had no choice but to continue following him.

We ended up at a strange house, one I didn't recognize. I had never been there before, either, which is probably why I didn't recognize it. But the front door was unlocked, and Perry walked right through.

Again, I had to follow. I vaguely remembered some rule about not going into a stranger's house, but only vaguely.

Perry led me up the stairs, around the corner, and finally into a bedroom. I followed Perry in, and saw Phineas and Gill. I knew immediately at least one of them wasn't wearing any clothes.

This time, it was Perry. No reason to rate this anything higher than K-plus. Phineas and Gill were both fully clothed, and it looked like they were browsing through photo albums. Why they were browsing through photo albums, I don't know. My instinct told me that I was hungry, and no matter what _their_ motivation, it wouldn't change that fact.

Gill jumped. "Buford!" she screamed.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"Miss is thy house," Gill explained. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question," I replied.

"You just did," said Gill. "I told you this was my house!"

"Not you, Phineas!"

"Apparently, I'm on a date with Gill," Phineas answered, as if that explained everything.

"Yeah, right," I said, in no mood for practical jokes. "Everyone knows you're gonna be dating Isabella. My money gives you four days."

"Don't be silly, Buford," Gill ordered. "Everyone knows that Phineas and I are inseparable, like an X and a Y in a function.

"Phineas is the dependent variable," she added nerdily.

Someday, that will be a word. _Someday_.

"Really?" I asked. "Because I don't think Phineas ever kissed you."

Phineas looked up at me, his eyes full of hope. "You don't think we've been dating?" he inquired.

"Course not," I answered. "Why would you?"

"Can I have a moment, Jack-n-Gill?" Phineas asked.

Gill nodded, and Phineas ushered me out into the hallway.

"You just gonna ditch your girlfriend like that?" I asked.

"Of course not," Phineas replied. "Perry's with her."

"Hey, where's Perry?" we heard Gill ask from inside the room. "He was right here."

Phineas ignored her. "Who did I kiss on Monday?" he demanded.

"Isabella," I told him. "I'm blackmailing you about it."

"Not Gill?" continued Phineas.

"Why would you kiss Gill?" I inquired.

Phineas looked down, and realization struck me. "Wait a minute," I said. You didn't... _kiss_ her?"

"Thrice," Phineas confessed. "Four times, if it also happened on Monday."

"Hey, Gill," a familiar voice screamed from the hallway. Footsteps could be heard quickly approaching us. "Baljeet says—"

The footsteps turned a corner, and stopped. The man making them looked down at me. "Buford?" he asked.

I looked up at him. "Buford?" I asked.

Phineas looked left at both of us. "_Two_ Bufords?" he asked.

And now for the cliffhanger Ferb didn't give you earlier.

* * *

**Confused? Good. But on a side note, I need to give Dreadwing216 (guest) credit for the part of this chapter that started with "'Yeah,' Django agreed..." and ended with "'...'Tis but a scratch, Buford!'" He wanted me to add that, and I did, with only minor variations. It was pretty funny, too. So again, thanks, Dreadwing216!**

**~Review! If you please.**


	9. The End

**If you were hoping beyond hope that an update still might come to this story, I've got good and bad news.**

**The bad news first: that update is not coming. Instead, I have decided to leave FanFiction. Kind of like, forever. So... I'm not finishing this story. Sorry.**

**Now for the good news. You can still see my plans and betas for this story. It's on my latest piece—Goodbye. If you are desperate to know what I had planned, you can check that out.**

**I know, I know... you're disappointed. Well, at least one of you is. But please understand that I do not exist solely to please you guys, however awesome you are. There are other people—people I know more intimately—who I hold in much higher regard. I'm sure you know people like this, as well. If you do, then you can understand why those are the people to whom I choose to dedicate my time.**

**Fellas, it's been a blast. As always, Carpe Diem.**


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